


As You Go

by reellifejaneway



Series: Dragon Age: One-Shots [16]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Mutually Unrequited, Post-Game(s), Rivalry, parting gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3777463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reellifejaneway/pseuds/reellifejaneway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the epilogue of DAI, Cassandra Pentaghast prepares to leave Skyhold to become Divine Victoria. And Varric decides to send something with her as she goes…</p><p>A short and fluffy piece that I’ve had hidden away for a while now. Because I love Cassandra and Varric’s rivalry/friendship, heavily inspired by Red’s ‘As You Go’ and partly to do with an art piece I created for the Wicked Grace Project. Cassandra Pentaghast, Varric Tethras and the wonderful world of Thedas all belong to Bioware. Arida Lavellan belongs to me. I’m just a fangirl who can’t let go…</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Go

_ _

 

 _Darkness creeps into daylight_  
You’re leaving  
Treasures hidden in our mind  
The memories  
The time we had was fleeting  
The strength is just believing now…  
[[listen]](https://youtu.be/5sPbH66-uAY)

 

“I’m leaving.”

He didn’t look up from the parchment in front of him. His quill kept on, scratching at the paper with a new-found determination. “Already? And I haven’t even finished this newest chapter for you to read yet.”

Heavy foot-falls sounded against the stone floor, a pair of gloved hands pressing down tellingly on the back of his, stilling his pen.

“That’s not why I’m here,” a stern voice intoned. That oh-so-familiar accent trilled in a way that he already knew he would miss.

“Then you came for a goodbye kiss?” The author looked up at his guest with a cheeky smile.

That elicited a half-disgusted, half-amused snort. “Only in your dreams, dwarf.”

Varric shrugged. “Your loss, Seeker.”

“I’m not… Not a Seeker anymore. You know that.” Her voice caught, and Varric glanced up in thinly-veiled astonishment. Cassandra’s mahogany eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. She turned away, her brows arching in silent fury at herself.

Varric already knew just how much Cassandra was looking forward to her inauguration as Divine, so why was she upset?

“Hey,” he murmured, rising to his feet, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing – it’s nothing.” She swiped furiously at her cheeks, staring down at her wet fingertips in abhorrence.

Varric’s brow furrowed. “No, it’s not. Because ‘nothing’ doesn’t have tears. Hawke tried to pull that one on me more times than I can count, Seeker – I’m practically an expert in the art of ‘nothing’.” He nodded toward his chair. “Why don’t you sit down for a moment? Have some apple pie?” When that didn’t elicit even the slightest smile, he knew there was something  _very_ wrong. “Alright, alright, I’ll even let you read the last page.”

Ignoring his crestfallen expression, Cassandra pushed herself away from the desk and spun on her heel. “I knew this was a stupid idea,” she fumed, storming toward the door. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry Varric.”

She tried to ignore the sound of him scuffling down the Keep’s staircase, keeping her eyes firmly locked on the sun rising above the Frostback Mountains.

“Seeker, wait!”

Cassandra shook her head, instead making a beeline for the front gate. “They’re waiting for me. I need to go.”

“You’re the Divine, dammit,” Varric interrupted, jumping down the last two steps and landing on the soft ground in front of her. “They can wait five minutes. You came to see me for a reason, Seeker. Maker knows we probably won’t see each other once… Once…”

Her face fell, and Varric’s heart plunged into his shoes with it.

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra murmured, her strong façade crumbling away. Now she was utterly distraught at the prospect of being so far from the dwarf who, despite their mutual suspicion, had grown to be her unlikeliest, and closest, friend. “I thought saying goodbye would be easier than this.”

Varric’s eyes softened in sympathy. “Believe me, Seeker, there is no such thing as an easy goodbye. But,” he added, “we don’t always have to say it.”

Cassandra frowned, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Hawke and I made a point never to say a formal goodbye. If she was going somewhere, we’d go out someplace, like to the Hanged Man, have an ale or two and then she’d just,” Varric motioned upward with his hand in a tipping motion, bowing as he did so, “you know, disappear. But you’re a bit too conspicuous to just fade away into the crowd, so we can forgo the stealthy exit.”

“In exchange for what?” Lady Pentaghast was struggling to conceal the beginnings of a smile.

“I would settle for a disgusted snort – and maybe a slap on the shoulder as you go.”

That brought an open laugh from the Nevarran, the vestiges of her tears disappearing behind a rare, glowing smile. “So,” she retorted, folding her arms in mock annoyance, “does this mean I can still read the last page of your manuscript?”

A strange light shone in Varric’s eyes then. “I’ll do one better.” Holding up one large, gloved hand, he told her, “Wait here just a moment.”

Cassandra shook her head when he sauntered quickly up the front steps, admiring the way the gold embroidery on his tunic shimmered in the early morning light. She took a step back, arms still folded as she waited beneath a small cherry tree. The blossoms were glorious, she thought, with the gold rays of dawn streaming through them: a rain of petals cascaded around her with a fresh breeze, some catching in her braid on their way to the ground.

“Seeker.”

She blinked, suddenly aware that Varric was standing in front of her once more. His hands were clasping a thick leather volume – a beautifully bound novel complete with a hand-painted cover, she realized with a jolt. Varric smiled, bowing and offering it to her with a flourish.

“Will this suffice as reading material for your journey?” He quipped, shooting her a charming grin.

Cassandra stared at the book in amazement. Shock overwhelmed her when she beheld the gold lettering reading: ‘Swords & Shields: The Complete Collection’. Her hands trembled fractionally when she took it, a searing blush working its way across her cheeks.

Trying not to give away the fact that she was besieged by emotion, Cassandra simply stared down at the smirking dwarf pointedly. “What – not the revised edition of the ‘Tale of the Champion’? I’m astonished.”

Varric chuckled. “Nah, I figured you’d want to keep your first-print copy with the blade-shaped indent in it. After all, I signed it, Hawke signed it, your sword signed it - it’s practically memorabilia now.”

For the first time, Cassandra allowed herself to laugh freely. Her eyes and nose screwed up adorably, Varric noted, his gaze drinking in every last little detail and storing it away. After all, it could be years before they see each other again… If at all.

Cassandra seemed to have the same thought, but at least this time she smiled through her tears. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled to mark the hour, and both of them seemed to stir themselves from their reveries.

“I suppose that is my cue.” Raising her balled fist to rest on her hip, Cassandra schooled her sharp features into her sternest scowl, rolled her eyes and let out a loud ‘ _bleurgh_ _’._ Then, in the same hurried, almost frivolous breath, she bent down and pressed a fleeting kiss to Varric’s rough cheek. A bright red hue spread across her cheeks. Instantly the warrior spun away and, with one last sad smile, strode down the stairs toward her waiting escorts.

The dwarf remained there, standing on the edge of the path and watching as the raven-haired woman swung up onto her steed with ease. Even as she led the group of soldiers and chantry clerics out Skyhold’s gate, he raised his hand to his cheek and let it linger there for a long moment. His eyes constantly sought out that dark figure, that stalwart silhouette on horseback, leading the way toward the horizon. Before long she was little more than a tiny spot among the white mountains. And then, she was gone.

Turning away, Varric let his hand fall to his side. He knew he would never let his sadness interfere with his friendships or even with his day-to-day mood. He was a consummate professional. He didn’t just give into emotion. But for the tiniest moment, Varric wondered what might have happened if for once, just once, he and the Seeker had just stopped pretending to hate each other.

In his line of work, there was plenty of room for ‘what-if’s’. And yet, reality was not as forgiving.

With a sigh, Varric returned to the Keep, blissfully unaware of the fact that the Inquisitor had been standing little more than a few feet away, watching.

Arida Lavellan shook her head slightly from her place on the battlement. Drawing her white robe closer to her slender frame, she stared down at the gate and breathed a silent prayer for Cassandra’s safety – and Varric’s sanity – just as her husband’s strong, armor-clad arms slid about her waist.

Cullen’s fur pauldrons and warm breath brushed her ear. “You worry for him.”

“I worry for everyone,” she returned gently, “but Varric more than most. I just hope he forgives himself someday.”

“I suspect we have not seen the last of our new Divine,” Cullen murmured softly, those broad hands of his settling on the Inquisitor’s stomach lovingly. “We are talking about Cassandra after all. She hasn’t seen Varric’s new manuscript yet, and I suspect there is other news she would travel to hear in person. Given the right incentive, you and I both know she would practically fight through a room of her own clerics to reach Skyhold.”

Arida leaned back into him, trying to ignore the ache in her heart. “I know,  _ma_ _’vhenan_. I know. It just feels wrong to watch her go.”

 

* * *

 

_—10 years later—_

Hands, gloved in white silk, turned that precious keepsake over and over. Fingers caressed the delicate form delicately, studying it, relishing in the tiniest fragrance that still emanated from the bloom. It had been years since she had found it nestled among the pages of the manuscript: A pressed rose, a yellow bloom plucked from a thicket on the outskirts of Kirkwall. Memory still served her well; she remembered that Varric had paused to pick it on their way to the harbor. To think that she had turned and shouted at him in frustration, threatened to leave without him…

It all seemed a lifetime ago now.

Divine Victoria raised the fragile rose to her chin, letting it rest there for a moment. Peace settled in her heart as eyes, wizened but still sharp with cunning, let the world before her fade. The image of his face flashed across her mind, his animated grin and perceptive eyes… And the words they had never said.

Despite her white hair, concealed under Chantry robes and finery; despite her title and the restrictions it carried, the woman beneath – Cassandra Pentaghast – allowed herself to smile.

For now, her memories were enough.


End file.
